


The European Way

by vanceypants



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Trans Rich Goranski, expensive headphones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: “It’s Sunday,” Rich said, as he rubbed lubricated silicone between Michael’s thighs.  “Nothing like a dick in the ass and a movie marathon.”Rich knows how to set the mood for the day.  Michael knows how to fall in love.





	The European Way

**Author's Note:**

> There really isn't much to say for this. It's porn. It's fluff. It's my favorite boys.

“It’s Sunday,” Rich said, as he rubbed lubricated silicone between Michael’s thighs. “Nothing like a dick in the ass and a movie marathon.”

“At the same time?” 

“I mean, maybe?” Rich paused in his rutting. His hand slipped down, grasping Michael’s cock around the base. “We could see if there’s any new Buck Angel stuff. But I meant more,” He drew his hand up, and Michael keened desperately, as Rich’s thumb pressed against the slit of his cock. He throbbed within his touch, morning wood and the smell of last night’s sex only working Michael up that much faster, “More, like, I fuck your brains out, then we watch Sixteen Candles.” 

Rich dropped down until he was draped over Michael’s body. Their lips connected, dual magnets that were built to sustain one another. Michael scraped his fingers through Rich’s hair, each movement heavy with sleepiness and lust.

“My parents are coming home today,” Michael mumbled against him. “I need to make the place semi-presentable.” But the way Rich’s strap on pressed firmly against Michael’s inner thigh made him want nothing more than to wile away the afternoon like this, locked skin to skin with his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The word still made him bubbly. He was certain Jeremy grew tired of the texts about ‘how cute Rich’s face looked while we were ice skating!’ or ‘Rich is so bad at Q*bert, just the absolute pits, I’m going to marry that boy.’ or ‘I can’t even walk straight Jer, let alone think straight, he’s got me all effed up.’

He tried not to talk about why he wasn’t walking straight, tried to pretend for Jeremy’s sake that it was a play on his sexuality and not on the depths with which Rich thoroughly and completely fucked him.

But you don’t become a masturbator at Jeremy’s level without understanding not-so-subtle innuendos. And you don’t have a lifetime of friendship without grasping the complete obliteration of Michael’s virginity.

“Fiiine,” Rich grabbed Michael’s wrists, pinning them above his head as he kissed his neck. His lips were soft, pliant, tender, and Michael’s chest swelled with affection as his tongue began to graze over his collarbone. “Then I fuck your brains out, and we clean.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to clean after that.”

“Ugh, lazy.” Rich released his hold on his wrists, taking his face between both palms. He wetly smacked his lips, only to follow it with a bite to his lower lip. The bite was a contrast to the earlier tenderness, a rush of hunger and desire and cock-throbbing need leaving Michael squirming. “Then I fuck your brains out, and you lay around and watch me clean.”

“Mm,” Michael ran his hands down Rich’s back, strumming his thumb over his spine. His other hand slipped upward, grasping one of his breasts and capturing the nipple between his knuckles. He rolled it carefully, as Rich gasped softly for him. His blush glowed around his scars, and Michael couldn’t resist placing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I can live with that. Are you going to be wearing this?”

“What? My dick?”

“I was going to say nothing.”

“I don’t think we’d get much done then, babe.” Rich grinned. “And I’m perfectly okay with that. One naked maid service, at your, uh, service.” His brow furrowed. “That came out clunky.”

Michael slid his hands down to Rich’s hips. He pressed his cock upward, grinding against him, as he flipped their positions. Michael sat up, straddling Rich’s hips.

And trying to pretend he wasn’t worried he’d crush him.

Rich’s hair fanned out against the pillow. His eyes were hazy, half closed, his eyelashes a tangle and lips a pink bow. Michael brushed his thumb over his mouth, only for Rich’s lips to part. Rich sucked on him, as Michael slid his hand down, squeezing silicone cock and testing it with his fingertips.

“This is new,” Michael said after a moment, strumming over the head. He knew Rich couldn’t feel the sensation beyond pressure, but watched the way his expression fluttered in appreciation, in lust. “Uncircumsized?”

Rich popped his mouth away. “I thought, like, we could roleplay as Europeans or something at some point.” His voice dropped into a lisped, husky, wholly inaccurate interpretation of a French accent. “Hon hon, mademoiselle, let me stick my croissant in your eiffel tower.”

“Awful!” Michael nearly shrieked in his laughter. Rich sat up, as Michael’s legs wrapped around his waist. He placed his hands against Rich’s shoulders, as Rich moved his fingers up and down his sides.

Michael hated the way they’d catch against rolls, the softness of his own body a curse compared to the toned muscle of Rich’s obsessive gym physique. 

“You’re too sexy for me, Mike Tyson’s Punchout.”

“That’s a clunky nickname.”

“Yeah, not my best. Trying to play into your gamer geekery.” His hands caught on Michael’s hips once more, pulling him upward. Michael slid forward, until the head of Rich’s cock pressed against his ass.

With last night’s fuck, and with the scent of strawberry lube (and the slick familiar sensation of said lube against him), he was certain it was alright. Or maybe he wanted to press their limits, to see how far this new cock could stretch him. He rotated his hips, angled just right, as he reached down to adjust Rich’s cock against him.

The movement must have rubbed just right against Rich’s cunt, because he gave a shuddered whine. Michael met his gaze, and then his lips.

Their tongues twisted together, until Rich was sucking against Michael’s, taking it between his lips until Michael popped back with a giggle.

“What?”

“Tickles.”

“You’re so full of shit, Mell. Tongues can’t be ticklish.”

“They can because mine is!”

“Come here,” His hands pressed to his lower back now as Michael pressed himself downward. Their foreheads tipped together, Michael’s legs squeezing around Rich’s body, as he sank against his cock.

Michael tried not to moan, the sudden realization of morning, and the breath that accompanied it, leaving him hyper sensitive. Or maybe it was the feeling of Rich breaching his body, every inch grinding just right against the inside of him. Michael’s cock twitched, the tip rubbing against Rich’s stomach.

“Mmm, god yes, fuck my bellybutton, Mikey.”

“Shut up,” Michael released his shoulder, one hand going to his mouth as he laughed. Rich grasped his wrist, tugging it away.

“No. Wanna hear you. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

And for a moment, Michael could almost believe it. Because Rich’s eyes flashed so possessively, so enamored. He looked at him as though he were the only boy in the world--and, well, he was the only boy taking his cock, at any rate, and that had to count for something.

Michael finally reached the base, sitting on his dick and panting quietly. “Fuck.”

“Is it good?”

“Oui,” Michael said with a wink. The edges of Rich’s body were fuzzy with his lack of glasses, but Rich’s smile came into crystalline focus.

“See?” Rich drew his hands up, scraping his fingertips through Michael’s hair. “See, babe? You could be a French escort, and I could be a businessman looking for love in all the wrong places.”

“Why am I the escort?”

“You think I should be the escort?”

Michael raised his hips, groaning at the way his cock slid over every sensitive inch of himself. He let himself settle back down, slowly gaining a steady rhythm of gyrations. “I think,” Michael panted, “I think you should, fuck, I think you should, fuck...fuck, I’m in a loop here. I think I think I think-”

“I think I could watch you take my cock all day and never get sick of it.” Rich leaned in, kissing abstract patterns along his jawline. “I think you’re the hottest, prettiest, hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You said hottest twice.”

“Because you’re twice the hot in one tight package, Mells Bells.”

Michael tried to laugh, but he found himself taking Rich’s cock against his prostate, and the idea of doing anything more than crying Rich’s name was hard to balance. 

“My little Mells Angel.”

“Stop,” Michael wheezed. “Stop, you’re killing me. Can’t breathe.”

“Yeah, I have that effect. Here, baby.”

Michael’s world swiveled, until his ankles were pointed skyward. He let them rest against Rich’s back, as Rich swapped their positions, left Michael on his back. He grasped Michael’s hips, thrusting sharply into him. His aim was pristine, well poised, and Michael whined, tangling his fingers into the sheets.

“Mine,” Rich purred. One hand released plush hip, only to take Michael’s dick in his palm. His fingers were calloused and collected every pulse of Michael’s desperate heartbeat, which had somehow collected between his legs. “You’re all mine, Mikey. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

Michael’s vision swirled into tiny pinpricks of light, as his body arched against the bed. He sobbed, strangled by his own pleasure as hot ropes of his cum sprayed over Rich’s stomach and chest. Michael’s lips were slick with drool, but it didn’t stop Rich from kissing him, full and desperate, owning every last moment of Michael’s complete unraveling.

It would take several minutes before Rich would draw out of his body, the sudden emptiness leaving Michael whimpering once again. He reached out, grasping Rich’s forearm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rich said gently. He settled down, curving his arms around him and pulling his body up against his chest. He carefully stroked his hair, wet and sweaty, drawing it back away from his forehead. “You did so good.”

“Yeah. I beat my high score,” Michael said deliriously.

Rich’s laugh pressed against his neck. “Yeah you did. And all with just one quarter.”

Michael reached down, fumbling with the connections of Rich’s strap on until it popped loose. Rich remained still, nuzzling the tip of his nose against Michael’s.

“What are you doing?”

“Breakfast,” Michael said insistently.

Rich grinned. “I thought you wanted to stay in.”

“Huh?”

“You know. Eat at home.”

“I am…?”

“Sounds to me like you want to eat out.”

Michael blindly fumbled, grabbing a pillow and slapping it against Rich’s face. “I’m trying to be sexy here, you loon.” 

Rich pressed the pillow away, cackling as he threaded their fingers together. “You are, you are.” He smiled. “But what about cleaning?”

“I am cleaning. With, you know, my tongue.”

“Who’s the loon now?”

“Hush.”

Turned out hushing wasn’t on the horizon for them that day. But Michael couldn’t say he minded.


End file.
